Fight for me

The stars in the night sky burned with an intensity that hadn't been seen in a century. People had stopped looking up at the sky, too preoccupied with the war that had separated their two societies and the borders that blocked them from each other. But that night, one person paused, noticing something strange in the stars, something that shouldn't be there.

Standing in clouds of smoke, she could hear the muffled cries of the poppies and the orchids, the crackling sound of fire, and the sweet talk of hell flowing slowly through the stems of two lilies, white flowers leaning towards each other embracing in their last breath of goodbye.

E thought of the numerous times she had seen the lily fields. How when, for the first time when she was just a child, she had lain down and felt the vastness, the silence, the loving embrace of those living beings. How when, years after, one of the villagers went to collect those same flowers to give to their pigs to eat because there was no food.

The famine caused by the Iridium plague had already spread and it had been the first direct consequence of the war that had started months ago. People had been left in a state of despair, struggling to survive amid the massive disruption in the global economy. Essential resources and goods had started to be a luxury.

It was that same day, as she saw the stems breaking in the hands of her neighbor that she felt as if her own bones were being torn and smashed under a giant press. And she swore that she would become a warrior and she would protect her people from the enemy because had there been a weapon nearby, she realized she would have killed mercilessly whoever stood in her way.

The war had come in small waves. It had started silently with a small number of murders that targeted only a small number of powerful men and women from different cities across the land. As months went by, the number of isolated killings became more frequent, each of them unique in its execution, a distinguishable signature of experienced hands and a very uncannily wise brain.

As far as they knew, the soldiers from the enemy called themselves by numbers. There were twelve leader warriors, the ones that had presumably started it all. No warning. No reason. No remorse. And then, more and more people started joining their ranks and doing their job and accepting contracts on their behalf.

With time, The Twelve became invisible, an untraceable shadow in space and time. And the people of Azure, E’s people, had had to answer.

Azurian warriors were allowed to time travel. Azure had come up with a plan to go back in time and stop the enemy’s first attacks before they had started. Their ultimate goal was to find The Twelve and take them down one by one before they could do any more damage. And the only way they could erase the shadow of their hiding place was through time.

It was a war that no one wanted to fight, yet everyone was compelled to take part. Strangers from different sides of existence, bound together by fate, were pitted against one another as they vied for the universe's ultimate prizes: time and peace. Across countless galaxies and through countless lives, their battles raged on, never-ending and always deadly.

But none of them knew who or where The Twelve were. Their actions were unpredictable and executed with utmost care and precision. E’s mission along with her team was to trace the threads of time or, as she liked to call them “time braids”.  These were hidden trails that couldn’t be completely erased: the parting essence that leaves a body when becoming a year older, the echoes of a laugh, a single tear among raindrops, the lingering taste of a kiss, a scent, a prayer.

After years of training, she had mastered the art of tracing time braids. Years of death, of patience, of waiting were finally rewarded when E and K, one of her team members, had been able to pick up on a broken time braid. It happened about a month ago.

They had been so close to getting one of the Twelve warriors.

She had seen the blonde hair, beautiful crimson red dress, and elegant movements and had felt as if she could drink right out the beauty of the velvet cape as if it was the most exquisite wine. As she suddenly turned, she felt her eyes locked into hers, both warm and chilling. There was a moment of hesitation before they had both risen their arms.

The female figure had vanished into the void of time and space, erasing all her weaknesses, her words, her cries, her mistakes, her wicked smile untraceable as a light breeze in a thunderstorm, leaving E standing with her bow in one hand and the arrow that had slipped from her fingers beside her on the floor.

E’s legs quivered. Her eyes reflected the light of the stars, and she swore she could feel snow running through her veins. She tasted melted butter, salt and metal, her tongue was sticky yet becoming drier and drier. 

The smell of fire. Trees burning.

Numbness.

Pain.

She had been shot.

E now took her hand to her chest, lightly touching the spot where she had bled weeks before. Remembering. This is the first time she felt nothing since it all started. Her lilies were burning, and she couldn’t even feel sadness or anger. She stood there, limb as the plants, screaming in meaningless silence. The smoke of their consumed life spreading to the sky.

People never looked above, there was no time to waste looking at the passing clouds anymore. Perhaps this is why she raised her gaze to the sky this time. Because there was no hope. And that is when, upon closer inspection, she realized there was a message from another time, another place.

A shooting star darted across the night, faster than the wind leaving a faint trail of stardust until it suddenly stopped in mid-air and dimmed into a bright light.

Burning red, light as a feather, a sealed message landed on E’s palm. She let out a gasp as the blazing material touched her skin. It stung at first, but the pain quickly subsided as the ashen sheet cooled down. E stared at it in confusion and awe.

The letter was sealed with a beautiful, elegant red swan stamp, the corners of the wax seal slightly melting still from the heat. She carefully traced the figure with the tip of her finger, eyes wide open, heart racing. She recognized the handwriting all too well. How could she not when she’d been studying The Twelve for years?

Only once before they had left a message to the Azurian authorities, back when the war had just started. A wooden spike, dark, mahogany color, about the length of a forearm with a message intricately engraved into the wood in golden letters that looked as if they were painted on. The letters, small and curved in a timeless font read:

Find peace in your own consciousness, let the threads of time find justice.

Following the line of the message and spiraling down the curve of the spike, the numbers one through twelve in Latin shone brightly, the last of them barely hidden by dry blood. The sharp end of the spike lay piercing the resting heart of F, the president of Azure.

The Twelve had never contacted their people with a direct written statement since.

E looked around her. Dragon flames were consuming the greens and the whites and the blues and the blacks. There was no one else there but her. She forced her eyes back down to her hands.

A message in fire?

From The Twelve?

Her heart pounded fast as she carefully broke the seal.

Dear E,

Have you ever tasted freedom?

It was an odd, almost comical question, one that would never have been asked in those circumstances. A question that could only come from a person who had been dying to crack a joke in the face of destruction.

They say freedom is peace. That it feels like flying, like a weight lifted off your shoulders. But to me, freedom is more than that. It's having the courage to explore the unknown, to take a risk, to stand up for what you believe in. It's having the strength to make your own decisions, to take your life into your own hands and make something of it.

It's about having the strength to let go of the things that don't serve you, to be able to accept yourself for who you are, and the courage to let go of the past. It's about being able to live your life with integrity and purpose. To me, freedom is the courage to be yourself.

The freedom that I have tasted so far is the one I hide from you. It's a secret that I have kept, filling me with such a hue. You may think that I am someone you can find and throw behind bars or kill or bury. It’s fun to think about you dreaming of those things. Dreaming of making me pay for the things freedom has allowed me to live by. Dreaming of making me the face of your doom.

My life has been a battle between good and evil. I've been living in the shadows, never quite coming to an end. I know that you are still out there, trying desperately to find me, and I think it is time that I let you know, that I know you are chasing me. I have known that for a long time.

You have been studying my moves. I am flattered.

E felt a sudden rash in her stomach. She pictured steady brushes, the ink unfolding, shaping curved, elegant letters. Long, slender fingers wrapped firmly around the pen, blonde hair falling to one side of the table, slightly brushing the paper sheet as the red figure tilted her head to one side thinking of the poisoned sentences that would proceed her arrogant statements.

Did you know? I have been thinking a lot about you lately. I feel like I know you more now, even though we have never met properly. I have been looking for you for a long time, and I finally feel like I have found you.

Your presence has been looming over me, like a dark cloud. I can still feel your eyes on me, like a heavy shroud. You have so much rage inside you, E. I know that you are trying to apprehend me, and I want you to know, that I don’t intend to be caught. At least, not yet.

Whenever I put my hand to my chest, I can feel the arrow that was meant for me. You almost had me. You made me hesitate, E. That I could not allow it, so I did what I had to. And for that I am sorry. Although come to think about it, now you have something to trail my steps with. Think of it as a bullet of trust.

I know you are an honorable person, and that you understand the consequences of continuing to chase me. I doubt you will be able to find me anymore unless I want you to. But you are welcome to try.

I am also sure you understand that if I am pushed to the brink, I will not hesitate to turn the tables and come after you. I know that you are a formidable warrior and I dread the thought of facing you in a fight again, but I will not stand by and let you pour your idea of freedom all over me.

Before you feel like sharing this with someone, I feel compelled to tell you that a friend of mine went early this morning to fix the pipe system at your place. She told me a… friend? lives with you.

He has an excellent mustache. And his name? I’ve never heard such a cool name either. What about yours? Is it Ellie? Is it Emma? Is it Elena? Is it Eve? I’m just curious. Maybe you can tell me when we next meet each other.

Here’s to your determination.

It was a pleasure to meet you.

Yours,

V

E felt like punching a wall. She was so angry and frustrated that she didn't know what to do. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to tell the world, destroy every inch of it and watch it twist and crumble and… and... And all she could do was stand there, feeling the rage and despair bubbling up inside her.

V.

Number five, or as it was signed: V. She was one of The Twelve. E had found her and let her go. And now she knew. They knew. Or maybe they had known all along.

She flipped the letter and began to crush the paper with her fingers as she read.

PS: I’ve always loved to wear the scent of lilies. Such a fresh, sweet touch. Can you smell me?

How dare she?

HOW FUCKING DARE SHE.

“I’m going to find you. And I’m going to kill you” E murmured to the sky through clenched teeth. Rage was sweeping through her entire being, her eyes becoming darker, as black as the ashes of the lily fields V had set on fire. Her childhood garden, her safe place, her peace, her freedom.

Every inch of that letter evoked a feeling of chaos in her. She reached for her bow, her grip tightening around the smooth curve.

V clearly wanted war. E would gladly grant her the wish.